Exposed
by helloitskrisha
Summary: Christine must conquer her stage fright, and her Angel is determined to help. But an unexpected turn of events—and an impromptu beach trip—forces them to confront their most deeply held secrets and leaves them feeling exposed, in more ways than one. (Fluffy E/C smut)


**A/N: This piece is dedicated to my amazing phriends, the Ladies of the Lair. Special shout-out to Larissa Bernstein who first brought up the idea for this phic and StaminaOverlook who drew incredible NSFW art that prompted me to write this. XD**

**(Please do forgive me for all possible historical inaccuracies haha)**

* * *

Christine stepped out onto the sand, feeling the warm glow of the sun tease her bare flesh. Although she aimed to project an air of calm and confidence, her head was full of insecurity and doubt. She placed her arms around herself protectively, as if doing so would make up for the fact that she was standing on a beach naked from head to toe.

Why had she agreed to this? This was complete and utter madness!

She started walking along the shore, keeping her legs as close together as possible. The sea spray tickled her sensitive skin, the sand playfully caressed the soles of her feet. If she were not so out of her comfort zone, she would've found this stroll relaxing.

Even though the other individuals around her were also fully unclothed, she couldn't help feeling so out-of-place and vulnerable. No one was truly paying much attention to her but her mind still made her feel as though every eye was on her.

She had never felt more exposed in her entire life.

To distract herself from the myriad of fears swarming her mind, she tried to remember exactly how she had ended up in this situation.

It started out so innocently. With a confession. A secret told in confidence.

…

"Maestro, before we continue with our lesson, there is something I must tell you…" she muttered shyly.

Erik ceased playing the organ and looked up at her, concern coloring his features. "Is something the matter, Christine?"

"You have been so good to me, helping me perfect my voice and work toward my dream. However, I'm afraid…" she paused, taking a deep breath, "I'm afraid that I can never be a prima donna."

Although she could not read his expression behind the mask, she could feel his confusion, could almost see the cogs turning in his head. His mismatched brown and blue eyes seemed to be scanning her, trying to make sense of her statement. "You _will_ be prima donna, Christine. You have a remarkable voice and so much potential for greatness. I can picture all of Paris lining up to watch you sing."

Her cheeks flushed at his words. "You are too kind, Angel."

"I only speak the truth, Christine. With enough patience, practice, and time, you will surely surpass La Carlotta. You have nothing to worry about."

Christine bit her lip. "La Carlotta isn't the problem, Angel. And I do not doubt my singing abilities either."

"Then what _is_ the problem, my dear?"

"Erik, I…" she started. Her throat suddenly felt dry. She had never told anyone this secret before. But she knew that she wouldn't be able to move forward without addressing the issue. So, with a deep sigh, she sat next to him by the organ, looked him in the eye, and told him the truth.

"I can't sing in front of an audience. I've been a chorus member and I can perform in the _corps de ballet_. But the thought of singing alone, with everyone's eyes on me… I can't bear it. How can I possibly become prima donna if I cannot even imagine myself singing alone on a stage? Whenever I even start thinking about it, my pulse starts racing and I begin feeling sick."

Christine covered her face with her hands. Now that her beloved teacher knew of her fear, surely, he would no longer want her for a student.

Erik wasn't sure how to process her confession. She had always seemed so confident whenever she sang for him. True, she wasn't the most social individual, but he never would've guessed that the mere thought of performing in front of an audience frightened her so.

He reached out to comfort her but stopped right before his hand could touch her shoulder, "Please don't be upset, my dear. You _will _become a prima donna. I will do everything I can to help you overcome this fear. _If you'll let your Angel help you_…"

His voice was warm and soothing, so full of tenderness and concern. Even when he wasn't singing, it felt as though he were playing a beautiful melody just for her. How could she resist?

"I trust you, Angel."

.

True to his word, Erik had done everything he could to help her conquer her stage fright. He gathered as many books as he could, trying to find a possible cure for her performance anxiety. They tried all of the possible solutions Erik could come up with, including limiting her caffeine and sugar intake, meditation techniques, going on a long walk before an audition to shake away her nerves, and visualizing an adoring crowd during a performance.

Nothing worked, and even Erik had begun getting frustrated. "Christine, if you truly want to become prima donna, you have to overcome your fears."

"I'm doing my best, Erik. It is not as easy as you're making it seem."

"Perhaps you're not _trying_ hard enough." He didn't bother masking the exasperation in his tone.

"I _am_ trying! I've done everything that you've asked me to do. I've followed all of your tasks, tried all of your suggestions." She looked down, tears clouding her vision. "Perhaps I can never overcome this… Perhaps I am a lost cause."

Erik saw the profound sadness etched into her soft, delicate features, and whatever frustrations he had with her melted away. He couldn't bear seeing her so discouraged and hopeless. "Christine… you are not a lost cause. My dear, we haven't tried _everything_ yet."

"What haven't we tried then?" She looked up at him, the tone of her voice expressing disbelief, but her eyes gleaming with hope.

Erik paced the floor, trying to recall all the research he had done on the subject. He would never give up on Christine. He couldn't.

"Performing is an art form, and sharing one's art with the world can make one feel exposed. I suppose we'll need to find a way to make you more comfortable being vulnerable in front of an audience."

"How will we do that?" she asked hesitantly.

"You will need to be exposed to situations that will make you feel vulnerable." Erik started racking his brain for ideas. "Let's see… Perhaps you could walk into a crowded room and start dancing. Or recite a speech in front of a few strangers…"

Christine laughed. "I could walk around in a nude beach."

"Yes," he thought out loud, "that may work perfectly!"

"What? Erik, no. Please. That was _not_ a serious suggestion!"

"You may have said it in jest, but the idea may work. What better way to get you of your comfort zone than by immersing yourself in an unfamiliar environment and doing something you would normally never do?"

"Erik, I'm not going to walk around naked in a public place!"

"My dear, these beaches tend to be isolated. And everyone around you will be naked as well, so you won't stand out. It will simply be an exercise in conquering your fears."

"I won't do it!"

"If you truly want to fulfill your dreams and share your talent with the world, you'll need to overcome this."

"If it's so easy, then why don't you do it?"

"Don't be absurd!"

"You're my teacher, are you not? Go ahead. Show your pupil how to overcome her stage fright! _Or are you too afraid_?" she teased.

"Perhaps I will!"

"Fine."

"Fine!"

…

Convincing Erik to join her on this beach trip had been a kind of personal victory. She had always been the one following instructions, but now she had somehow convinced her stubborn maestro to do something he didn't want to do.

However, as she walked on the sandy shore, naked as the day she was born, she wondered whether coming here at all was the right idea. She shivered from the cool sea breeze. Silently, she wished that her insecurities would go away so that she could tell Erik that her fear of exposure is cured and that she can go home now.

No matter how hard she tried, she could not stop feeling as though she were being watched. She looked around to see if anyone was paying even the slightest amount of attention to her… and she finally saw him.

She had been so consumed in her own thoughts and insecurities that she hadn't noticed any of the people around her. But when she saw his tall, imposing figure, she could not keep her eyes off him even if she wanted to. Among the various naked bodies on the beach, his stood out. He was still wearing his signature fedora and white half-mask but was fully bare from the neck down.

He quickly turned away when he saw her looking in his direction. Warmth pooled in her belly when she realized why. His back was turned to her and, although she was trying not to stare, from between his legs, she could clearly see the shadow of his erect cock.

Christine had always believed herself to be a good, proper God-fearing woman. But seeing her maestro's visible desire for her sent all thoughts of chastity and purity away from her mind.

This was wrong. She shouldn't have stared. Oh, but how could she resist? How could she keep her thoughts pure when the whole of him was right there, just beyond her reach, fully bare for her to see?

No, she shouldn't be having these feelings for Erik. He was just her teacher, her friend!

And yet, she looked again. Looked at the way his pale complexion shined in the sunlight, the way the scars on his back and thighs made him seem all the more masculine, how deliciously firm his bottom looked. He kept his hands situated at his front. She couldn't see what those skilled musician's fingers were doing but she could only imagine them clutching his large cock, trying to conceal his hardness from her.

She squeezed her legs tighter together, relieving some of the pressure building up within her. This was wrong. She shouldn't be having these thoughts, especially not in such a public place!

Before she could begin processing her conflicting emotions, he started briskly walking away. His impossibly long strides were challenging to keep up with, but Christine was determined to follow. They walked past hordes of naked people, each one seemed to be so comfortable and confident in their own skin. She felt envious of how they did not seem to feel insecure about their bodies and how they were proudly showing off all the parts of them that one would not usually expose in polite society.

She followed Erik to the very edge of the beach where a large, secluded cove was situated. Very few people stayed in this area because of the narrow, restrictive entrance and the way the jagged rocks overhead blocked out the sun. But Erik was used to hiding in the dark, so she knew he didn't mind.

Erik seemed to cloak himself within the shadows of the cove, successfully hiding behind one of the large rocks. She shyly approached him but he spoke up. "Stay where you are, Christine. Do not come any closer."

She stopped in her tracks and hugged herself tightly, attempting and failing to cover her breasts. "Erik?"

"Forgive me, Christine. I did not mean to… Please forgive me."

"What on earth are you sorry for, Erik?"

"Erik did not mean to defile your purity… Erik is a wretched monster. He could not control himself. Please forgive Erik."

He sounded so remorseful and it broke her heart. She knew that speaking in the third person was his way of disassociating himself from the situation. Her heart couldn't bear hearing her maestro's confidence crumble like this. "There's nothing to forgive, Erik. Why don't you come out and we'll talk, yes?"

"I can't, Christine. Erik is unworthy of looking upon your naked form. I should not have asked you to do this. It was, ah, a poor decision on my part. Please forgive your maestro."

"Erik, I agreed to do this because you were right. Sometimes, we need to do things that make us uncomfortable. We have to face our fears head-on. It means the world to me that you would keep your promise and join me on this trip. Now, please come out of there."

"I can't come out, Christine. Erik… does not want you to see his shame."

Her cheeks turned hot as she remembered the shadow of his stiff manhood. The thought made her heart race. "I… I saw you, Erik. Please. I… I don't mind."

Although she could not see his face, she could somehow sense his furious blushing. "You… saw?"

"Yes," she shyly admitted.

"And Christine… does not mind? Erik did not sully Christine's purity?"

"When you work at an opera house, you see and hear much worse," she chuckled, "and… you were not the only one who _felt_ _something_, Erik." Her admission made her cheeks turn even redder.

"What does that mean, exactly?" There was a clear change in the tone of his voice. The embarrassment had been completely replaced by curiosity.

Christine could not think of what to say. She knew exactly what she wanted but, being _inexperienced_, she did not know how to ask for it. Silently, she wished that she had talked with Sorelli before going on this beach trip. The ache between her legs was starting to become unbearable.

When she did not reply, it felt like a confession to Erik. He slowly moved away from the rock he was hiding behind and cautiously approached Christine. He held his cock, still hard and eager, in his hand. She felt her pulse racing and her breath quickening, much like the anxiety that came over her before a performance, but this felt so _right_.

Somehow, the idea of letting him take her right here both scared and thrilled her. Anyone from the beach could walk over at any moment and find them. The thought aroused her, sending jolts of electricity coursing through her veins.

He walked toward her slowly but with intent. Like a predator walking toward its prey. But as she looked closer, she noticed how he was shaking, how his expression was still so unsure. As if he were waiting for her signal to strike.

She decided to close the gap between them. The sand beneath her feet seemed to propel her toward him, and they met in the middle, their eyes locking.

"Are you sure that this is what you want, Christine?"

She smiled. "This trip was about making me feel vulnerable and facing my fears head-on. What could make me feel more exposed than this?"

Christine placed her arms around his waist and he flinched. She quickly drew back. "Did I hurt you? I'm so sorry."

"No, my dear. It's only that, ah… I've never…"

"Never?"

He shook his head.

A playful grin formed on her lips. "Then, I guess we'll both be out of our comfort zone today."

She placed her arms around his waist again, pulling him closer to her, and kissed him. The taste of him was both foreign and familiar, both dangerous and safe. As if she were meeting him for the first time but also as if she had known him all her life. She wondered if this was how Eve felt after she had eaten the forbidden fruit.

When their lips met, he stilled at first but then quickly reciprocated. She traced the uneven shape of his lips with her tongue and a low moan escaped his lips.

"Christine, I would never have thought…" he pulled away, breaking the kiss, "How could you find this horrid body desirable?"

She placed her hand on his chest, tracing his scars with her finger, relishing the uneven texture of his skin. "Because it's yours."

Her touch was a balm on his cursed flesh, cleansing him, consecrating him. He told her the secrets of his body, the long history of abuse it had suffered. The lashings from his old ringmaster, the cuts and bruises from his time in Persia, the needle pricks on his arms from his own misguided decisions. She accepted it all and, with a kiss, she sealed their bond.

As the kiss grew deeper, he gained more and more confidence, placing his hands on her waist, gently caressing her soft curves.

Her body seemed to have a mind of its own, moving her closer to him. She felt his erection press against her bare flesh. He inhaled sharply, and Christine had never heard a more erotic sound. Her hips moved against him as her hand moved to touch his uncovered cheek.

He cupped her breast in his hand and gently teased her hardened nipple, tweaking and circling it with his skilled fingers.

Pleasure spiked through her body, and she let out a soft moan. She reached between them, held the proof of his desire in her hand and started stroking. He had never felt more vulnerable in his entire life.

"_Christine_," he pleaded, his body relenting to her ministrations, giving away all control. But that was when his mind urged him to take charge. He gently asked her to release her hold on him, lest he finish too early and disappoint them both.

His large, calloused hand cupped the back of her head and the other grabbed hold of her waist. In one quick movement, he lifted her off the ground and her legs wrapped around his body instinctively.

He carried her and pressed her against the smooth, sloping walls of the cove. His hand left her waist and started tracing a line from her neck to that delicious place between her legs. Gently, he parted her folds and teased the wet, sensitive flesh with his finger. It was Christine's turn to feel bashful. Giving him pleasure granted her power and control, but letting him pleasure her in return somehow made her feel self-conscious.

As if reading her mind, Erik gazed at her warmly, his expression an intoxicating mix of love and lust. "How beautiful you are, my Christine. Let your Erik worship you."

He slipped two of his fingers inside her now. She cried out when he found her hard bud and circled it. How was it possible that the ache between her legs seemed to both alleviate and intensify? Her moans grew louder when his tongue took the place his fingers had explored.

"Erik," she breathed, "I need you. Please. I need you NOW."

She parted her legs wider to receive him, and they both gasped as he guided himself inside her. His hand cupped her face tenderly as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear. She could barely understand what he was saying because of all the different sensations were overwhelming her.

The ways his lips—those same lips that had shared such beautiful melodies with her—claimed that delicate spot behind her ear. The way his fingers played her like one of his instruments, tenderly and reverently, as if handling something precious. His thrusts were rhythmic, seeming to move to music—sweet, wonderful music—meant only for their ears.

Her vision blurred as she felt intense pressure building, climbing, _erupting_ within her. She seemed to be floating away, and only his arms kept her tethered to reality. As she rode out her pleasure, she felt him fill her with his own satisfaction.

The world seemed to break apart and rearrange itself in a matter of seconds. When she opened her eyes, she was back on earth but she could've sworn that she had just glimpsed heaven.

And here was her Angel, collapsing into her embrace.

.

They sat together by the shore, watching the sunset on the horizon. His arm was around her waist and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Erik, I understand now why I was so afraid of performing onstage."

He planted a tender kiss on her cheek. "Tell me, my dear."

"Music has always been so intimate and personal to me. It used to be something that only my father and I shared. Then, it became _our connection_. I suppose… I was just not ready to share these deep emotions with the world. But I think that I'm prepared for the next step now."

A small smile formed on his lips. "And how do you know that you're ready?"

"If I can walk around naked in a public place, confess my love to my teacher, and have beach sex all in one day, then I can handle singing onstage." She smirked.

For the first time in a long time, Erik laughed out loud. His deep, sonorous chuckle both delighted and aroused her. "You will be a marvelous prima donna, my love."


End file.
